What Matters
by Indigo Tantarian
Summary: Just a brief Night Vale piece. Carlos is offered a chance to leave Night Vale, due to his ground-breaking findings there. When given the choice between home and work, there really is no contest.


**What Matters**

He never truly realized the consequences of his actions until it was too late.

Every week, Carlos the Scientist, Perfect Carlos with his Perfect Hair, sent his data about Night Vale back to his superiors. He never received much of a response, just, 'Your message has been received and will be processed in due course.'

And when he finally got over the panic of being thrust into this horror all alone, he began to stand up straighter. To not only observe, but to put forth the effort to remedy any situation he could. To enjoy himself. He let down his guard to the radio host, and then wondered why it had taken him so long.

He kept sending reports every week, but with the assumption that they weren't being read. And that was okay, because Carlos was making fascinating discoveries on his own, and the strict guidelines his superiors had provided were only holding him back from doing some real good in the world.

He was out in the scrub lands monitoring the strongest earthquake never felt on Earth when the trucks arrived. A long line of large black trucks, full of testing equipment. Erika saw them, and told Old Woman Josie (out by the car lot), who sent a Facebook message to Cecil, who texted him. And Carlos went to meet them, along with Cecil, the Sheriff's Secret Police, a representative of the mayor, and various other citizens of note including Erika, Erika, and of course Erika (though not Erika, because of all the work to be done around the house).

A man with a shining head and a thin fringe of gray hair had glanced at him briefly before telling him that his reports had been processed, and they would be taking over from here.

And suddenly there are scientists exploding out of every truck, waving around instruments, commenting on the airflow and the seismic conditions and (ALL HAIL) the Glow Cloud. They're going up to the residents, asking questions and –

An older woman barged right up to Cecil, ignoring his interview questions, and flicked at his third eye tattoo. It blinked rapidly, and he stepped back in indignation, with an, "Excuse ME, madam!"

And Carlos, shy, retiring Carlos who took a year to start acting on any desires he might have had, who had been taught that as an observer he must never step in and interfere, because that wasn't serving the cause of science, stormed over and shouted her down. That kind of behavior is reprehensible, not to mention unethical, and he won't tolerate this infringement on his research site, and NO ONE is to harm, or even touch, anyone in Night Vale. Ever. For any reason. Period.

The bald man bustles over and takes Carlos by the shoulder, guiding him firmly aside. He's told that he's done his part, and he did a good job, but he's gotten too close to the project and started to go native. That he needs to step aside or risk disciplinary action. Carlos only pauses for a brief moment before insisting that he won't stand for this. That he's making a difference here, slowly but surely. That this is his project, his town, his HOME –

But a scientist should be an observer, he's told. A scientist should not make a difference. That's the last thing a scientist should do.

The older man turns and walks away from him, and it's all Carlos can do to keep from knocking the man to the ground. But a hand grasps his arm, and a man… in a tan jacket, whose face Carlos cannot describe says… something he can't remember the next minute. And Erika is there (keeping a few eyes on Erika, who has begun to minister to the scientists). And Carlos stalks over to Cecil, still seething.

The scientists are disgruntled to find that the abandoned mine shaft only has two vacant rooms, and one of them is made entirely of cactus jelly. Perhaps they should have chosen a better time to visit than the weekend of the Annual Bloodstone Circle Conference. Rooms have been booked months in advance. They should have called.

On the first night, 17 scientists pack back into their trucks and flee, shrieking in terror.

The following week is marked by the rapid winnowing down of the staff of scientists. Some leave of their own accord, ranting and sobbing and shaking.

Some do not.

In any case, their numbers dwindle, and if there are bloody shreds of clothing found outside the Dog Park, or near Grove Park, no one mentions it. And if they don't have the good sense to stay inside when the sparkling green rain falls, or when the rocks begin to float, that has to be written off as natural selection.

Carlos takes the opportunity to clean his lab and apartment well. He surprises Cecil with dinner after work that turns into a long, deep, heartfelt discussion. Cecil surprises him with breakfast the next day. The scientist spends a lot of time in the scrub lands and the sand wastes in the evening, noting the behavior of the tiny lizards, and the coyotes that move faster than any mortal creature should, and the great beast no one has ever seen or spoke of, halfway to Desert Bluffs. Carlos is not a biologist, but he believes in the importance of bettering oneself through a variety of hobbies. He continues to monitor seismic activity. He writes detailed reports, which he keeps for his own files. The scientists do not ask him to join them, nor does he offer.

At last the older scientist and his remaining three assistants bang on the door to Carlos's lab one afternoon. Their eyes are wild and distrustful, and they demand answers.

Carlos just smiles calmly and replies, "There are so many questions here, as I'm sure you've gathered. It's a little short on answers, though. The people here just live a little…differently than anywhere else."

They are not happy. This is not what Carlos was paid to do.

He's still smiling, though. "Tell me, have you eaten at Big Rico's yet? Just next door?"

They haven't.

"Hm. I think that was your first mistake. It's municipally mandated once a week, but if you're planning to stay, there's still time. If you file the proper paperwork, of course."

That sends one of the younger scientists running.

"I don't know what the hell's going on here, but we all have to get out of here. Pack anything you need, but we're leaving immediately."

"No one does a slice like Big Rico," Carlos interrupts, his eyes narrowing slightly. "NO one."

And as the last of the black trucks kicks up a cloud of dust in its effort to leave faster, a deep, sonorous voice sounds from the stereo, which should have been playing a 'Best of Queen' CD.

"And as our visitors leave us, I like to think that we all gained something from the interaction. We are all a little older and wiser in the ways of the world. We all have a renewed respect for our City Council, the Hooded Figures, and of course, for our most perfect scientist. Now, Night Vale, the sun has set. The stars appear to fill the void. We have our home, and we have each other, and that is truly what matters in the end. Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight."


End file.
